Womanhood
by Strawberry Shortcake123
Summary: Azalea and Ziva have an evening of ice cream and girl talk. Companion oneshot to Family for Observation; can stand alone.


**Please read:**

**This is a oneshot using Tony and Ziva's daughter from my drabble series Bloom and Family for Observation, but if you haven't read those, you'll still be able to understand this. If you do read those, this does fit in the timeline of the series; it just ended up being too long.**

**Enjoy!**

Ziva stood beside the stove with her chin propped on her hand, waiting for her pot of water to boil. This was not the most exciting event in the world, and she kept thinking of a million other things she needed to do, but it had been a long day at work and she was tired. Instead of motivating herself to dust the living room, she lay both her arms flat on the counter and rested her head on them.

The front door creaked open. "Aza?" she called, and when there was no answer, she straightened up. "Azalea?"

A sound between a cough and a sob came from the front of the house. Ziva hurried into the foyer and got there just as her daughter was dashing up the stairs. "Azalea!"

Azalea stopped in her tracks. "Mom, I just, I need to go-"

"Come here."

When she turned around, Ziva saw that her face was blotchy, her eyes rimmed in red, her cheeks damp, and immediately went to meet her in the middle of the stairs. "What's wrong?"

She avoided her mother's eye as she answered, her voice wavering. "Jayden broke up with me."

_Oh._ Jayden. Ziva's mind hadn't even gone there, and it suddenly seemed so obvious; maybe she needed a nap worse than she thought. She lifted a hand to smooth back Azalea's hair. "I'm sorry, baby."

"He told me he just wants to be friends. Which doesn't even make _sense_. We were together for three months; why would he change his mind? Or did he _never_ really want to date me?"

Seeing that she was growing agitated, Ziva gently grasped Azalea's elbow and led her back down the stairs, into the living room. "Sit down," she said gently, and Azalea obeyed, curling up in one corner of the couch. "Let me finish making dinner; I will bring you a plate."

"I'm not hungry."

"Not even for spaghetti?"

Azalea shook her head, denying one of her favorite meals. Ziva went into the kitchen, turned off the stove, took a carton of chocolate ice cream from the freezer, and grabbed a spoon. She strode back into the living room and offered the two items to her daughter. "Take this. You do not often get the opportunity to have sugar for dinner."

Her request was granted, and she settled on the other end of the couch, sliding her feet into the middle so that they were beside Azalea's.

0000000000

The story came out in pieces as Azalea worked her way through the ice cream; she took a long-winded approach that involved long pauses and the use of the phrase, "I don't _understand_." Ziva listened patiently and without a word. Eventually, it came out that while Jayden and Azalea were at the mall, a place they went often, he had bought her a chocolate chip cookie, sat beside her on a bench, and told her it was over but that he wanted to be friends.

"And it was really _sweet, _the way he did it, you know? That's what I liked about him in the first place," she mused. "Except this time he was… sweet in a jerky way."

Ziva gave a rueful smile at her choice of words. "What did you say to him?"

"I was gonna punch him. But then I just said it was fine."

"Did he believe you?"

Mother and daughter locked eyes for several seconds. Azalea looked away first, realizing that her mother could see right through her and knew that it wasn't actually fine; the pain could not be hidden. "I don't think so."

Silence ensued, save for the scrape of the spoon against the interior of the carton. Ziva sat on her side of the couch and thought about the men who had come and gone in her life. The ones who had betrayed her. The ones she had betrayed.

And the one who stayed.

The clock struck seven, and Azalea asked, "Where's Daddy?"

"At work. They wrapped a case around the time I left; there was paperwork to do." She drew her knees to her chest, folded her arms on top of them. "You know, your father is a good man."

Azalea looked up, surprised. "Yeah. I know."

"This is most likely not the last time you will be hurt in a relationship," Ziva said carefully, "but they will not all end like this. And someday, one of them… may not end at all."

Now it was she who looked elsewhere, focusing on the coffee table while her daughter's eyes drilled into her head. "Mom," Azalea said softly, "what happened?"

It was nothing uplifting, nothing a teenager needed to hear when she was already down. But as Ziva mulled over her past and allowed emotions she had long suppressed to come forward, it began to seem that she _could_ connect with a fourteen-year-old girl who had been hurt.

Her decision made, she leaned forward, hands outstretched. "Give me that ice cream."

Azalea handed it over without a word, and suddenly, the tables were turned: Ziva was the one applying ice cream to her relationship ailments. She lifted the spoon to her mouth, sucked at it slowly, and licked it clean. Going in for another bite, she said, "One man… his name was Ray."

"Ray."

"Yes. I met him while working, and we dated for a little over a year, and for the most part, I was happy with him."

Gently, Azalea prompted, "For the most part?"

Her mother sighed, blowing some stray hairs from her face. "He lied to me once, and I was angry. I broke up with him. Your father… convinced me to forgive him."

"_Dad _did? Why?"

"Because up to then, I had been happy with him, Aza. Ton- your father knew that, and he did not want me to throw away that happiness because of one mistake."

"Well, _he_ could have made you happy."

Ziva smiled. "We were not at that point yet."

Azalea, looking disgruntled, clarified. "So you went back to him."

"I did."

"And then what happened?"

Another long sigh. "Ray was also a federal agent. He was sent on assignment overseas, and eventually we lost contact. And then… it was very sudden; he was back, and he proposed."

The gasp produced by Azalea filled the room. "What an ass!"

"Azalea May, do not use that word." Ziva pursed her lips and stirred the ice cream, which had turned soupy. "Though you are right. In hindsight, I cannot believe he had the audacity to… expect me to marry him after the two months I waited for a phone call. But at the time… Azalea, I never had stability in my life, and he was offering me something… permanent. A chance at settling down. I almost took it."

Another foot lightly tapped against hers, and it was comforting, because it reminded her of where she was; Ray was long gone and here she was with her and Tony's child.

"Why didn't you?" Azalea asked.

"He- it does not matter. What matters is that I am so glad I didn't say yes." Ziva set the ice cream carton on the coffee table and rubbed her palm against her jeans as she shifted closer to her daughter. "And at the time, _yes, _I was hurt. I felt betrayed and I partially blamed myself, and I wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to marry again."

Azalea moved to sit beside Ziva; they both perched on the edge of the couch. "And you did."

Those three words reminded her why she had wanted to share this story in the first place, and she effortlessly snapped out of sharing mode and back into mother mode. "Yes. It is fine if you are upset about Jayden, but just remember that the end of your relationship… is not the end of the world."

"Okay," Azalea sighed, laying her head on Ziva's shoulder, swiping at the corner of her eye. "I'll try. Right now, it sucks."

"I know." Ziva kissed her forehead and embraced her as they heard Tony's car pull into the driveway. Azalea lifted her head and said, "So how long after that did you and Dad start dating?"

"Eight months."

"How?"

Ziva smiled mischievously. "Ask me next time you have boy trouble."


End file.
